Success
by FickleArtist
Summary: Oh look, she doesn't completely suck at baking.


Some people don't need to participate in certain hobbies that are hazardous to their health, their home, or to those they live with. Vicky is a prime example. Her hobby _shouldn't_ cause the amount of problems it does, maybe the occasional problem but nearly setting the apartment on fire multiple times, smoking up the house on a regular basis, and somehow breaking three smoke detectors was ridiculous. Who is seriously that bad at baking? What exactly drew her to it is a mystery, although her boyfriend's theory is that she gave it a shot one day and has been trying to redeem herself ever since. He's pretty sure she's actually gotten worse with every attempt. Really he gets why she's annoyed with it, besides the ridiculously complex recipes, baking is simple; follow the directions and make sure whatever went into the oven is done. Nothing to hard yet she hadn't managed to make anything edible. All she did was make a huge mess and he got food poisoning for being a good boyfriend and trying the food. And left him to clean up the mess which looked like she put the ingredients in a pile and blew them up. After the thirtieth time putting the kitchen back together it stopped being funny that she couldn't even bake cookies right.

Today she was trying something different, still kind of baking but hopefully different enough that she could eventually get it right. Long story short her sister shared a picture of some apple-rose desert things that Timmy said he wanted to try so for once she was going to try to do something vaguely romantic. It was also their anniversary. So that's why she went out and bought the ingredients that weren't lying around the kitchen, plenty of extra too. Recipe was simple enough, she might not get the dough cooked right but that was the only part she was concerned about. And no she wasn't going to make the dough herself, that was more time consuming than she had patience for right now and there was a higher chance of her making something edible if she bought some. Also being nagged at today would dampen the mood.

First batch was…well a mess. The cored and halved apples were a bit too thick, turned brown, and tore the dough when she tried to roll it. Looking back at the recipe she put some lemon and water into a bowl, guessing the ratio, to put the slices in. The redhead put the bowl in the microwave with three minutes on it to remind herself to nuke the apples next time. Four batches later and she was down to enough ingredients and time for one more try before she needed to clean up, and a newfound respect for _carefully_ following recipes. Twice she forgot to add water to the preserve and microwave it, peeled an apple out of habit when she wasn't supposed to, and nicked her finger. Last batch was fine, dough cooked through, but she forgot the preserve that kept the dough from falling away. Instead of nice roses she ended up with deformed flowers. At least she wouldn't undercook this last batch.

Quietly she read down the list of instructions to make sure she'd done it all correctly this time. Apples sliced paper thin and microwaved, check. Dough cut into six strips, check. Watered down preserve nuked too and spread on the dough, check. Okay now all she had to do was stagger the slices on the dough. Once that was done she briefly considered whether or not to put cinnamon on them but decided it was best not to press her luck. Carefully she folded the dough up, rolled each strip, and put them in muffin tins. Setting the oven timer she started to clean up the slight disaster that was her kitchen, really it could be much worse. The counter and floor were the only casualties.

Just as she got everything straightened away, besides the container for the powdered sugar, the front door opened and very slowly closed again as Timmy eyed her suspiciously. Any time she was in the kitchen alone never ended well.

Smiling, the redhead walked over to him. "Hi."

"Hi." His eyes darted around the apartment to see if anything was amiss.

"What?" She asked innocently.

For a second it looked like he was going to say something but thought better of it opting instead to give her a hug. "Nothing."

"Ew affection." Vicky teased, trying to pull away only to have his arms tighten around her.

"All I ask is two days a year you let me be affectionate without complaint, would it kill ya to let me?"

"Whatever, order food I'm hungry."

Groaning, the brunette let her go so he could go back to their bedroom. Poor thing wanted to go out for dinner or something else that would suggest today was special but after last year he learned his lesson. Their anniversary was another day to her, nothing to make a fuss over. They'd do the same thing they did last year, order take out and watch tv on the couch until they fell asleep. His inner romantic was cringing at the thought.

So imagine his surprise when he went back to the kitchen after changing into comfier clothing to find the fiery haired woman sprinkling some sugar on, roses? No those were the deserts he say online a few days ago and if the smell was any indication those were fresh. Which meant his baking impaired girlfriend cooked them…unless Tootie was tied up in a closet after being forced to make them. His skepticism must have showed.

"Hey now, I can bake!" The look he gave her said otherwise. "…well maybe I can't. Doesn't change the fact that I made these on my own."

"Then why isn't the kitchen a mess?" Timmy had to dodge an oven mitt.

"Jesus I try to do something nice for you since you love this romantic gesture bullshit and you go an-"

Lips crashed into hers to shut her up before the rant started. And pulled back too soon for her liking.

"Thank you Vicky."

That's the thing about Vicky; once in a while she surprises you. She might not be the most affectionate person but he'd keep her.

And to those who are curious, no one suffered from food poisoning. That would have killed the mood.


End file.
